The Fifth Head of Xander Harris
by TofuZen
Summary: Willow and Buffy must travel into the mind of Xander Harris to save Xander Harris with the help of Xander Harris. Worst of all, they're running out of time and Xander wants Xander dead.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters represented in this work, those are owned by their creators, publishers, or distributors. No profit will be made.

This one's a bit more experimental, I'll explain more in the author's note.

Start.

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><p>The sun exploded and it was as if the world was born anew. The West bled across an evening sky. A menstrual lunar sphere hung in the star-pocked abyss like a spectral eye peering down upon the earth. Warm air rushed through her, pulling at her with an indescribable feeling of comfort.<p>

She wanted to fall into the void. It was only her own will that kept her steady.

It was wrong. She shouldn't have felt the warmth. The body she inhabited was merely a construct of her mind, a puppet that she controlled from the safety of her own body. Interference of that magnitude was unordinary, unprecedented even. But still she felt the warmth.

She let it engulf her, enjoying the sensation. It felt like those hugs she used to receive, maybe a little too stiff and awkward but all the more comforting because, not in spite of that. And in that instant she wasn't Willow Rosenberg: master witch, respected member of the Watcher's Council, she was Willow, hapless teenage girl, still hopelessly in love with her best friend. And that was wrong.

There shouldn't have been anything comforting about another person's mind, and this one was all wrong. A mind was supposed to represent a person's true self, but all she could see was a night sky. When she looked down she realized she was standing on nothing. It felt like there was ground beneath her feet, but to her eyes she was standing among the stars.

The books she'd read had said that there was usually an entrance to a person's deeper thoughts. Considering she was suppose to be able to see surface thoughts where she was now, she was starting to think those books were a whole lot less useful than advertised.

What should have been a humble door was instead a herculean gate housed in an imposing barbican of wrought iron and wood that looked like it had been torn off a castle. There were no walls and she circled the gate twice to be sure there was nothing behind it. The wind battered around her, whirling dust and sand around her like a cocoon as she approached the gate. At a hundred meters she felt like she was melting, the puppet she was using creaked as it move forwards. It's joints were quickly starting to fail.

"My name is Willow Rosenberg. I am in control; this mind is within my domain."

A mantra, commonly found in Hinduism and Buddhism, is an utterance or prayer. Witches and Warlocks lovingly ripped them off, like they did most things, when it was discovered how effective mantras were at focusing magic. Keep it simple, the books had said, make it meaningful to you. She'd been using this one for years. Slowly she could feel her mobility returning.

"I am in control; this mind is within my domain."

The warmth died.

"You could have knocked."

She spun to face the direction of the voice.

"Xander?"

"Hi Willow," Xander said. But it wasn't him. His eye patch was missing for one thing and he had both eyes. Where Xander's face was bright and full of life, the visage before her resembled that of a hollow and pitted skull wrapped in sallow flesh. His body was gaunt and bent with fatigue, like he'd been pushing a boulder up a hill for all eternity.

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Gatekeeper." The voice was raspy.

"What do you mean?" Willow said.

"I keep anything and anyone from entering." Gatekeeper said, "Anything that tries to harm him has to go through me. You shouldn't be surprised considering the number of things that have entered his mind. "

"You mean there are more of you?"

Gatekeeper shrugged, "You know of at least two: Hyena and Soldier."

That wasn't right. Some people had the rare talent of constructing walls to the mind, a measure to keep invaders out. But gate keepers? Alternate selves? The books had said nothing about that. Possessions didn't create alternate personas.

"Where is he?" Willow demanded.

"Inside" Gatekeeper replied unhelpfully, "Somewhere deep."

"Thanks." She started walking past him into the void. She stopped when he held an axe in her path. It wasn't an axe she recognized, and she knew all of Xander's by heart.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm the gate keeper, nothing goes past me." His voice had taken a mocking lilt, like whenever Xander was feeling particularly smug.

"Let me in." She growled, power crackling at her finger tips. She was floating now; the air was filled with magic, dancing filling the void.

"No."

"You won't hurt me," Willow said, "Xander never could."

"I may share his mind," Gatekeeper said, "but I am not him. I never have been."

He moved faster than she could react. No. Faster than the puppet could react, and cleaved her left arm off with a ragged swing.

The arm didn't drop as much as explode from her puppet's body. It wasn't one to one, but she still felt pain of the limb boiling and bursting.

She shook it off, she'd been through worse. At the same time she slammed her right hand into Gatekeeper's chest and released the magic she'd built up. A bright flash, the sound of thunder. She made it concussive; it didn't tear his body apart or cut him in half, but it took him off his feet. He flew back, landing hard black meaningless void they were standing on.

Panting, she held her hand to the severed stump that remained of her left arm. She wove bone, nerves, muscle, and skin together. She had to concentrate; getting a single thing wrong would make the arm useless. She was sweating, her shirt stuck to her back with an unpleasant prickling sensation.

Gatekeeper stood, unharmed. He didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at her re-grown limb. He cut if off again.

That was getting old fast.

"You won't be able to pass me." He said, using the severed arm to scratch his back. Her deltoids were leaking everywhere.

"I won't." She conceded.

Gatekeeper dropped the arm and griped his axe tighter. Weathered wood creaked beneath his fingers. "Get out."

Willow clenched her hand tight into a fist, swallowing the magic she'd raised in her palm. Whatever warmth that had existed was gone; all that remained was a biting chill that seemed to only get worse as time passed.

"You'll see me again."

Gatekeeper shrugged, "That won't change anything."

She pulled herself out of the field; it felt like being sucked through a straw.

* * *

><p>She woke up. The walls were beige or faded white, Xander was asleep on the bed, Giles and Buffy stood behind her. Both her arms were intact. She was home. It smelled like mothballs, which meant it was raining outside. Xander still hadn't fixed that like he said he would.<p>

Her shirt clung to her back, damp with perspiration and she could smell her own odious body odor.

"Judging from the look on your face, I assume you were unsuccessful." Giles said. His glasses hung uselessly in his hands, half polished.

Buffy was much less reserved, drawing Willow into a crushing hug. Willow wanted to protest, complain about her own scent, but Buffy wouldn't have any of that. As far as she was concerned her friend needed her support and unpleasant BO wasn't going to get in the way of that.

"I got my arm cut off. Twice."

"Is he okay?" Buffy said, "Are you?"

"I don't know." Willow said. "Maybe."

"What happened in there?" Giles asked, "You started thrashing and screaming, I've never seen that happen before."

Willow gathered herself, "There was more than one Xander."

Giles frowned, "Is that even possible? I've never heard of anything like that."

"The Xander I met called himself the Gatekeeper. He said there are at least two others: Soldier and Hyena. I'm pretty sure he was hinting at more."

"That's" Giles searched for something to say, "not very good."

"Hyena and Soldier," Buffy repeated. "I remember the Hyena, Soldier was Halloween right?"

"Yeah," Willow said, "I think he was a Vietnam vet or something."

"But where could the others have come from?" Giles said, "As far as I'm aware those are the only times Xander has ever been possessed."

"Africa?" Willow asked.

"No." Giles said, "I read all of his reports, he never mentioned anything close to possession."

"Does fish-man count?" Buffy asked.

"I think that was more physical than mental." Giles said, "But then again, it seems everything else is possible, so I don't see why not."

"Dracula?"

Giles frowned, "I suppose that's also possible. There were certainly remnants of Dracula's spell that turned Xander into his thrall."

"Gatekeeper said he existed to protect Xander's mind from invaders." Willow said, "Is it possible that facets of Xander's mind gained self-awareness from the stress of his possessions?"

Outside the storm picked up. The raindrops hit the roof like bullets. Xander still hadn't fixed that leak in the attic.

"It's rare for someone to have been possessed twice. Even if the methods were radically different in their intent and execution, but I've never heard of multiple avatars of a single person inhabiting the same mind."

"I need to go back in," Willow said, "He needs our help." She paused, knowing Giles wouldn't like what she was about to say, "I can't use a puppet, not with his mind the way it is. Gatekeeper cut my arm off before I could even move. I'll never reach him with the limitations a puppet has."

"That would remove any safety you have. If you lose an arm, you won't be able to grow it back so easily."

"I know" Willow said, "There's no other way."

"Okay," Giles nodded, "You'll need help."

"I'll go." Buffy said immediately, "I don't mean to be big-headed, but I'm the best we got."

Giles rolled his eyes, "While I'm sure Faith would disagree, I see no reason to complain. Willow, is that going to be a problem?"

She nodded, "The spell I use can support more than one person and I don't think being a slayer would make a difference. I just need to compensate for a slayer's inherent magical aura."

"How long will that take."

Willow paused for a moment, "Done."

"Ok." Giles said.

"Ok." Buffy said. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Willow said, taking Buffy's hands in hers "Close your eyes."

She muttered something and the room was filled with a bright light. Giles held his arm up to shield his face. "Good luck!" he called.

Willow nodded, and with a screeching explosion that tore through whatever sound that had existed before, Buffy and Willow vanished. The light left with them, leaving Giles alone with Xander's unconscious bodies as his only company. He pulled off his glasses and polished them with machine precision.

"Oh dear."

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Hi, welcome to my story. Expect this to be a relatively straightforward tale of mind boggling twists and turns. That sounds a bit odd doesn't it? The next chapter should be coming soon I am in control; this mind is within my domain and my plan is for a bi-weekly update schedule Iamincontrol;thismindiswithinmydomain. Thanks Iamincontrol;thismindiswithinmydomain for Iamincontrol;thismindiswithinmydomain reading Iamincontrol; ;thismindiswithinmydomainIamincontrol;thismindiswithinmydomain I͟a͍̙̲̜̱̳m̛͙͕i͠nc͚͔̬̥ọ̣͉n̦̫͕̬̯̙̱t͔͖r̴̲̰͈̩o͖̹̩͔̝ͅl̝̲̳͈̳̺̪;͡ţ͓͖̰͙͍ͅh͎̹̦̣i̪͍̖̻ͅͅs̶͉͕̝͓͚m̘̳̱̹ì̺̣̫̝n̦̦̩d̡͕i̢͔̰͚̞̜̗ś̥͖̦̝̮̘ͅw̶̺i̢̼͍̩ͅt̥͔h͏͚̞͎͓͔̻͕i̧̺͔̟̦͓̣n͍͚m͈̙̭ỵd͝o̘̠̭̫̣͠m̰̥̻̝̬̩a̧̰̼̰̠̲ͅi͕̲̝̭͓n͔̭̥I̠̜a̦̤m̧̺͉͔̫i̵͎̱̝͍̖n̙͍̯̰̫̱͞c̟͖̤̭̜o̼͉͎̹̦͈͟n͙̹̘͟tŗ̳̻̘̭̬̻o̵̗̻̮̘l͚̮̤̦;҉͕̠th̬͕̲̪͚͕̺i̴̘͉̯s̗m͖̻̘i̮̝͉̘̺̼n͉̯͕d̗̻̣͟i̡̻̠s̴̮̹̲wi̪͢t̩͠h͕͚͈i͉͔n̘̞my̲d͓̲͔o̲͔͢m̨̗̯̱̦a̗̠̙̹̻̗͘i͚̕n͎͚̖̼͈̞̙̕

I̞̙̦̝͞a̺͔̟͇̭̝͈m̻̟̝͎i̭̝n̩̹ͅc͉̰͕̥͝ͅo͍̥̼̩̭̗n͎̘t̰͞r̡͈̣̭o͙̯l͙̺͇̱̪̕;̵̝t͔hi̡̖̩s̮͈̜̩̞͈̕m̱̞̤̟͞in̟̪͝d̡̠i͔̬͈͕͈̣̲s͚̜̖̬̰ẃ͇̫i̜͇͖t͏̤͚h̯̭i͚̭n͓m̟̰͝y̶̖͓̪͕̟d̝̬̩o̧͓m̖̞̻̭a̢̱̘̘̹i̯n̫̩̩͈͉͓I̬͉͈̤̥͟a̕m̞̟̮͇̭̦ͅi̥̼͖̟͟nc̵̪̮̩͈̜̣̣o̜̹͙͙̼͓ͅn͖̲̮̬͟t͇r͞o̘͍̤̰̰̞͜ͅl̩̰̘̫;̜̱̗t̳̳̮͖̳̘̪hi̘̰̰͈̯̰͘ṣ̥̻͇̙͉͚m̙̤̜̰̟i̖̫͚n̦͇̥͕̼͖d͉̺i̷͇̝̬s̖̝̮̬͔w͏̩̣̯i̷̯̤̠̠͍̬t̫͈̭̩hi̮̣̭n͈͉̖̞͕͓m̝̥̩͇͈͝y̦̝

d̰̩o̗̗̞̱̖͕m̙͉̠̼a̟͞i̖̰͉̰͚̭̳n͏̱̬̮̱̜ I̞̙̦̝͞a̺͔̟͇̭̝͈m̻̟̝͎i̭̝n̩̹ͅc͉̰͕̥͝ͅo͍̥̼̩̭̗n͎̘t̰͞r̡͈̣̭o͙̯l͙̺͇̱̪̕;̵̝t͔hi̡̖̩s̮͈̜̩̞͈̕m̱̞̤̟͞in̟̪͝d̡̠i͔̬͈͕͈̣̲s͚̜̖̬̰ẃ͇̫i̜͇͖t͏̤͚h̯̭i͚̭n͓m̟̰͝y̶̖͓̪͕̟d̝̬̩o̧͓m̖̞̻̭a̢̱̘̘̹i̯n̫̩̩͈͉͓  
>̪̗̰̗I̬͉͈̤̥͟a̕m̞̟̮͇̭̦ͅi̥̼͖̟͟nc̵̪̮̩͈̜̣̣o̜̹͙͙̼͓ͅn͖̲̮̬͟t͇r͞o̘͍̤̰̰̞͜ͅl̩̰̘̫;̜̱̗t̳̳̮͖̳̘̪hi̘̰̰͈̯̰͘ṣ̥̻͇̙͉͚m̙̤̜̰̟i̖̫͚n̦͇̥͕̼͖d͉̺i̷͇̝̬s̖̝̮̬͔w͏̩̣̯i̷̯̤̠̠͍̬t̫͈̭̩hi̮̣̭n͈͉̖̞͕͓m̝̥̩͇͈͝y̦̝d̰̩o̗̗̞̱̖͕m̙͉̠̼a̟͞i̖̰͉̰͚̭̳n͏̱̬̮̱̜I̞̙̦̝͞a̺͔̟͇̭̝͈m̻̟̝͎i̭̝n̩̹ͅc͉̰͕̥͝ͅo͍̥̼̩̭̗n͎̘t̰͞r̡͈̣̭o͙̯l͙̺͇̱̪̕;̵̝t͔hi̡̖̩s̮͈̜̩̞͈̕m̱̞̤̟͞ in̟̪͝d̡̠i͔̬͈͕͈̣̲s͚̜̖̬̰<p>

ẃ͇̫i̜͇͖t͏̤͚h̯̭i͚̭n͓m̟̰͝y̶̖͓̪͕̟d̝̬̩o̧͓m̖̞̻̭a̢̱̘̘̹i̯n̫̩̩͈͉͓  
>̪̗̰̗I̬͉͈̤̥͟a̕m̞̟̮͇̭̦ͅi̥̼͖̟͟nc̵̪̮̩͈̜̣̣o̜̹͙͙̼͓ͅn͖̲̮̬͟t͇r͞o̘͍̤̰̰̞͜ͅl̩̰̘̫;̜̱̗t̳̳̮͖̳̘̪hi̘̰̰͈̯̰͘ṣ̥̻͇̙͉͚m̙̤̜̰̟i̖̫͚n̦͇̥͕̼͖d͉̺i̷͇̝̬s̖̝̮̬͔w͏̩̣̯i̷̯̤̠̠͍̬t̫͈̭̩hi̮̣̭n͈͉̖̞͕͓m̝̥̩͇͈͝y̦̝d̰̩o̗̗̞̱̖͕m̙͉̠̼a̟͞i̖̰͉̰͚̭̳n͏̱̬̮̱̜Ị̧̖̤̥̹͔̫͚͍͘͠a͏͟͏͖͚̟̫̱̞̫͚̣̠͕̺͕̬̠̹̟̖͇͘͟m͏͏͏̝̻̝͍͡i̶̕͠͏͈̳̹͕͙̼͕͙̭̀ͅń̴͏̨̧̱̠̥͙̖̥͇̯͙͓̬̲̙̘͇̩̯̥̗c̯̖̫̝̮͕͖̙̪̤͢͠ơ̸̛͍͎̮͍͞ṋ̵̷̘̗̮̮̠̬̗̫̮̙̣̯̼͡t̵̶̺̘̝̩̬̙͙͇̲̗̖̫́͟ŗ̷̸̛̱͍͈̲̥͖̤͈̹̲̥̯̙͍o̴̷̧̯̗̪͖͢l̡̧͝͏͚̝̗̯͘;̷̶̧͚̫̝̥̪̖̮̞̜́͝ͅt̷̷̴̳͓̱̠͚̫̺̣͔͉͚̩͎͝h̨͢҉͖̮̘͔̗̼͖̯̬į̸̟͍͓͇̪̬̳̟̗̥̫̳̠̞̞ͅs̘͈͕̺͓̱̭̯̼͈̟̬̹͕̗̮̦̞̫͘͠m̲͇͇̲̲̻͉̯̟͈̭͟͡i̸̧̦̥̪̪̭̼̙̕͢ͅn҉҉̠̘̱̼̣̤͙͇̲d̛̟͙̼͕̮̦̱̼̖̭͎͙̱i͏̢͍̹̳̪͈͢s̡͜͏͙̙̗̖̥̳̯͙́ͅẃ̡͕̳̞̮̲̫͔͔͉͕̜i̡̮̟͕̜̜̹̳̠͖͉͕͖̹̦̞͘͝t̛̲̱̭̖̭̺͓̖̭́͢͞ͅh̵̢̧̝̟̳̯̤̠̪̹͖̩̙̳͚͈͍̹͔̠͢͠i̵͚̠͖̥̫̰̞̳̥͓̘͠n̸̴͔̠̭̰̕͢͢m̙̼̹̘͈̝̹͟y͉̖̳̦̙̖̕͜͜d̸̸̨͓͕̳̱̰̙̝͙̠͇͉͈̠͈͕͢͞ò̸̻͈̞̣͈̜͙̦̻̱̭̦͟m̸̧̛̛͈̳̙̬̣̱̻̪̞̠̳̤̬̬͜ą͎̠̝͎͇̲̀͠ͅͅi̶̹̭̤̥̖̥̺̪̩̜̞͘͡͡͠n̷̨͜͏҉͕͚͍̰̟̖̤̣͖̯̙͉̠̻̺͕̲ͅI̢̪̻̲̜̤͜a̸̩̲͎̟̝̗̳̥̝̗̬͕̗̮̺̕͟͝͞ͅm̕̕͝͏̩̭̼͓͙̭͙̘̯̪̥̗̭̖͚͔͡<p>

i̗͉̹͉̕͢͢͟͝n̵̙͙̜̯͚͇͇̗̫̞͓͇͖̪͙̖̜͜͝ͅc̡̮͖̲̯̪̰̻̱͜͝o͏͏̺̱̪͍̼͇͎̺͉̟̦̱̜͔̙̰͈̝̕͢n̨̠͇̜͜͡͞t̷̤̜̥̣͇̥̠͇̣̦̪̲̪̗̣̤͙̞͝͞r̛͍̱͔͓̩̳͉̲̘̼̲͚̻̫̙̦̼̫̙̀͠o̵͏̺̘̤̭͙̜̙̀͡ļ̨̡͙͔̦̪̲̫̯͓̹͟͢;͇̟̦͔͈̻͍̺̭̰͝t̨̮̺͔̱͈̲̮̭͎̱͍̀͜͝ḩ̶̴͏̺̟̥͔͚͓̹̭͎̥͍̻i̵̢͈̥͙̫̗̞̻̜̜̬͟͞ͅṣ̴̨̢̥̤̰̱̙̜̬̲͙̜̘̜̝͚̪͙m̠̱͇͚̕͜ì̶͏̟͚̲̗̲͔͖͓͙̰̹̪̻̦n̡̗̝͈̲͚̬̮͈̜̟̞͓ͅd̨҉̺̝̜̻̪̗̥̻̙̖̗ì͝͏̡̨̤̫̬̯̗̬̦̬̲̭̘̳͔͇̮̼̥s̶̟̮͇̠̩̬̲͎̺̬͍̣̠͓̘̺̠͟w̷̸̴͔̰̜̣͓̩͕i̴͍̝̙̘̰̱̝͍͓̪͕̗͓͖̰̥͡ṱ̡̛̖̰̞͕h̘̼͎̰̕͠i҉̴̵̙͓͕̫̹̬͕͠͞n̡̲͓̘͈̤̤̲̤̳͙̖̦̠͜͝m̷̡̧͎̯̖͙̦̤̝̝͎̙̠̺y̵̨͘͞҉̥̭͓̳  
>͟͏̧̲͍͈̝͙̘͕̼́̕<br>̷̢̕҉̡̥͇̺̞͚̬̱̠͖͔̤̣͓͍̩d͏̴̟̺̠̱̰̝̟̰̮̮̣͔o̢̘̝̳̼̩̲̩̫͙̩͔̱͇̮͓͉͈͜͞m̵̴̵̩̬̞̦̣̬͠͡ͅa͏̴̴̤̺̠͖̳̪͕͍̱̼͢í̡͕͉̣̮͇̘̫̠̼̖̣̫̟̻̕ͅn̸̻̼͔̰̳̩͈͍ ̵̫̯̼̹̣̯̥̺̖͇̟̫͎͘͜͞I̡̛͓̹̠̝͔̥̳̻͖͍͓̱̙͝a̸͚͙͓̩̩̩̤̹̤̳͞m̶̵͓͍̬̙͞į͇̖͔̟̯̱̩̮͖̫̲̙̟͙̪̝ͅǹ̡̥̣̳͔c̭̹̦̫̻͙̪̫̹̫͈̰̩͡͞o̠̖̰̺̘̗̭̫͖̗̼͇̝̲̣̲̕͢n̕͟͝͏̤̳̘̳̩͉̲̤̣̖͍̞̻́t̡͘͏̨̦̤̦̰͕̳͡r̡͜͏̹͕̹̹͍̖̞̩͓̺̟̗͠ͅo̴̡̫̤̠̠̞̱͇̠̪̪͞l̸̢͍̲͉͈̠̙͖̯̲͕̺̺̼͟ͅ;̷̵̨͙̲̼̻ţ̣͔̲̰̬̱̤̳͚͓̹̠̱̹̞̲͟͢h̨̠̖̺̲̤̯͘͝͡͝ͅi҉̨̼͖͔̤̬̹̘͉̺̖͎͍̟̲͓͜͟͝ͅs̢̥̤̳͈̣̜̲͓̮̥͚̦̤̩̯̘̘͇̮m̢̛҉͇̠̝i̷̞͇̳̱͖͕̮̳͇̘̥̺̝̭͈͈͡n̴̠͙̭̤̭̪͙̖̖͔̹̤͢͡ḑ̴̛̦̠̟̻͖͙̰̤͓̣̩͚̪͓͢i̢̧̲̲̱͉̬̫̭̪̞̮̳͕̥̣̠̦s̵̗̠͉̙̰̺̹̙̼͓̻̳̙͈̠̩̳̬͟͝ͅẃ̸҉̗̬̙͕̹́͟͞i̸̥̥̜͎̣̗̞̺̟̤̻͈̞̤͇͢ͅt̷̨̫̥̹̰̰̺͉̹͔̯̭͖̠̯͓͕͎͜͞h͞͞҉̴̜̩̰̬̲̖̲̞̰͕̭͞ì͈͈̣̲̦̣̱͚̤̩͉̳̱n̴̨̲̬̤̬̱̩̼̱̘̩͎͡m̸̛̗̫̟̜͕̀y̵̸̧̲͕͉͓̯̳͙̺̪̲̩͇̰̰̱̝̠͠d̵͖͙͖̦̜̩̖ǫ̡̩̪͓̰͘m͍̰̝̦̫͖̰̤̝̠̼̳̪̦̘̪͚̳͜͞a̵̡̼̰̞̫̯̩̼̞̗̜̪i̶̧̞͓͕̻͉͙̬͕̭̫͎̰̻̺̦̭̻̫͟͜ͅn̵̵̢̥͚͓̤͈̕

domaincontroldomaincontroldomain

M̧̡̹̬͟ỳ̱̗͜͡ͅ ̷̧̧̬̹ ̺̥̳͇̻̥̱̩͔N̮͙̩̦̯̦a̸̩ṃ̶̨̬̠̦͕̹͙̕e̺͚̬͈͡ is WILLOW ROSENBERG


	2. Read the Author's Note

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own the characters represented in this work, those are owned by their creators, publishers, or distributors. No profit will be made.

Wherein we learn what's happened to Xander and things fall progressively off the rails.

Coherence ceases to exist, things get confusing, author's note deteriorates into gibberish.

Start.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter the Second<strong>

His room was starting to develop a funk.

Not in a dancing sense, his life wasn't that strange, but he was starting to believe that he was going to have to do the laundry. Preferably before he was smothered in a pile of unwashed boxers. What an unhygienic way to go. The only consolation prize would be his obituary, which would be legendary. Tales would be passed of the boy who was crushed under a mound of unwashed clothing. Parents would use it as a cautionary for their kids. Scientists would study the odor to use in chemical warfare.

Or something like that.

He dragged himself out of bed and across the floor to a hot shower. The scalding water forced his spine to click back into alignment and he groaned involuntarily at the sensation.

Toast with a side of toast for breakfast and then he was out the door, skateboard under his feet pointed towards Sunnydale High. It was crisp and picturesque and every other word someone might use to describe a bright sunny day. It smelled like daisies.

Xander gripped onto the back of a passing moving truck, living out his Marty McFly dreams. He ducked low to avoid the gaze of the driver, then pushed off and sailed down a hill that would take him to school. Other students were milling about outside, some of them heading for the school building, some content with sitting on the grass. California sunshine was always welcome, and it seemed a few people were doing their best to soak up the rays while they still could.

"'Scuse me, coming through." He muttered, bobbing and weaving through the crowds of other students. At this point he was an expert at ignoring disgruntled complaints as he jostled past uncontrollably.

He wasn't late, which was always a plus and he saw Willow walking up the steps which made the start of his good day even better.

She was dressed like she always was, long sleeve shirt, jeans, but today she looked different. Somehow. It wasn't her hair or makeup (she didn't wear any), but someone about her was bothering him and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Not even the unfamiliar blonde girl he passed on his uncontrolled romp towards his best friend.

He articulated this mass of conflicting emotions with a single articulation: "Whoa."

And then he crashed into and under the railing right in front of her.

Pride was bruised more than anything physical, as was usually the case whenever he was on his skateboard. Red faced, he smiled up at her, which she returned with extra vigor. That helped lessen the feeling he got every time he made a fool of himself.

"Willow! You're so very much the person that I wanted to see!"

"Oh, really?" She said, charming smile still firmly in place.

Xander hauled himself upright, "Yeah, you know, I kinda had a problem with the math."

"Which part?"

"The math. You know him." Jessie said, reaching his arms around Willow and Xander and pulling them together. "How's it going?"

"Great." Xander said, "Willow was just about to promise to help me with math."

Willow scrunched her nose, "I think you're skipping a few steps."

"Oh, please oh please? I promise to love you forever and ever." Xander said.

"Do you have 'Theories in Trig'? You should check it out."

"Oh, no good." Jessie said, "I'm afraid I burned it."

"What?"

"Yep, up in smoke, very tragic. iPhone accident, the batteries in those things are terrible. More importantly, you should study together in the library after school, just ignore the new librarion."

"What's an eye-phone?"

"Nothing important."

Xander shrugged. "Whatever."

"I still don't understand how or why you burned 'Theories in Trig'. It's a good book." Willow said.

"Facebook told me to do it."

Before either Xander or Willow could ask him what _that_ meant, Principal Snyder made himself known in the only way he was capable of.

"Enough chit-chat," He shouted, "You'll be late for class. If you don't hurry up you'll serve a detention after school!"

"Yikes," Willow said, "what's his problem?"

"Wide stick; narrow ass." Jessie said.

Xander snorted while Willow stifled a grin. "Be nice."

"You hear anything about the new transfer student?"

"Buffy Summers," Jessie said while kicking the door to the school open, Snyder glared, "weird name, probably raised by hippies. We should get to class."

"You're not curious?" Xander said, "what if she's a hottie?"

"Probably not worth the freaky lap dance jealousy ploys." Jessie said, face twisting into a look of disgust. "She's so ratchet."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're acting kinda strange." Willow said, "Are you alright?"

"Never better." Jessie said, "Want to go to Starbucks after school?"

"No," Xander said, "I don't think anyone wants to go to Starbucks."

"Basic bitches only." Jessie agreed.

"You know, I really don't understand a word out of your mouth today"

Jessie laughed in response.

* * *

><p>"What's a radian?"<p>

Willow sighed. "It's the angle subtended at the centre of a circle by an arc equal in length to the radius of the circle."

"That wasn't English." Xander grinned at her from across the table.

"If you're not going to pay attention then I don't know why I'm helping you." She wanted to say it with some heat, but they were in the library so she only dared to whisper.

Xander had to lean towards her whenever she spoke, almost across the table. Her breathy whispers sent a shivers down his spine. The library was an open space and hardly what one might consider comfortable, but sitting across from Willow at the large table almost felt intimate.

"Xander," she said, "focus."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Xander said loudly. "I'll be good, I promise."

The volume of his voice made their new librarian look up from his work, but he quickly decided reprimanding them wasn't worth it and returned to whatever he was doing before.

Surprisingly true to his word, Xander focused and worked through another two problems before whatever semblance of calm was interrupted by Jessie bursting through the door, glossy magazine in hand.

"Xander buddy!" Jessie said. And this time the new librarian did interject, saying something in a buttery smooth British accent that Jessie dismissed immediately.

"You mad bro?" Jessie said throwing his hands out in abstract gestures only he understood.

Shocked or perhaps just confused over what the hell _that_ could possibly mean the new librarian said nothing else.

"What are you holding mister?" Willow said. It was a rhetorical question; she was well aware what was clutched between his fingers.

"New Playboy just dropped, check it!" Jessie slapped the sacrilegious rag down onto the table, forever covering 'Revised Theories in Trig' in shame and sin. Xander's eyes widened at the sight of the cover.

Faye Resnick adorned the cover dressed in a black negligee and despite the word negligee already implying sheer cloth, it's worth restating just how sheer that negligee was: very sheer. The signs of a surgeons touch were pretty clear, making her look like Barbie come to life.

"Jessie," Willow said, "that's disgusting. Playboy is demeaning to woman; it objectifies them and reduces them to a sexual object."

"Relax," Jessie rolled his eyes, "I don't read the articles. Besides, it's the 90's, I can be as misogynistic as I like."

Willow leaned across the table and grabbed the magazine, "I'm confiscating this."

"Hey, give it back." Jessie said, lunging at her. Willow jumped back, placing the large table between them. She backed up until her foot tapped against a bookshelf.

Xander smiled watching their antics, he balanced his chair back on two legs. "C'mon Willow, don't make it easy for him."

"I can't wait till you get a load of page three, she's just your type!" Jessie laughed, "or should I have said 'off' page three? Man, I'm so clever today."

The betrayed look Willow was shoot at Xander was uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, but nothing made him feel more guilty than the beginnings of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He should have felt embarrassed, that was normal, he didn't know where the guilt was coming from.

Willow ducked under Jessie's outstretched arms and charged past the bewildered librarian, throwing the doors to the library open harder than anyone though possible.

Xander looked down at his unfinished math homework then to Jessie who looked a lot less disappointed than Xander thought he would.

"I'm going to go after her," Xander said. "There's no way I'd be able to finish this work with your help."

"There's no way I'd help you." Jessie smiled.

"Ok, see you later then." Xander pushed his work into a pile which he squeezed into his backpack, he threw it over his shoulder on the way to the door.

"Enjoy the Playboy." Jessie called after him.

Xander skipped past the still flabbergasted librarian after his errant best friend. Red hair tended to stand out and as soon as he exited the library he spotted a full head of it partially hidden behind a tree.

He walked across the grass and sat down beside her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Willow said, "I'm fine."

"I know you Wills." Xander said, "Better than anyone else, what's on your mind?"

Willow crumbled the Playboy between her hands, "Do you, I mean, do boys think this is attractive?" She was shaking it now. "Compared to her I'm so plain, I'm not attractive at all."

She hadn't cried, but her eyes were red like she could start at any moment. Maybe another day, another minute sooner or later Xander wouldn't have known what was running through her mind. Today, he could see everything clearly.

"No," Xander said without thinking, "You're attractive." He turned to her, letting words he'd always thought spill from his mouth. "You're cute. Really cute, I mean."

"But not beautiful." Willow said, "Cute like a kid is." The tears were coming back, steadily climbing their way forward like Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay scaling Mount Everest.

Xander paused. "You're beautiful Willow. You're more beautiful than that girl on the cover. You're more beautiful than any girl in that magazine."

"You had to think about that for a while." She said.

"It was worth thinking about."

She smiled. "Prove it."

He smiled back like he though Han Solo would, "Okay."

He kissed her or she kissed him. He wasn't really sure and he didn't think it mattered. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. The world seemed to go white and to him, nothing else in the universe mattered but kissing his best friend.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Jessie McNally waited until the clock struck 11 and class ended. Unlike his peers he didn't immediately shove his materials into his bag and jockey for position out the door; instead he waited with uncommon eagerness until all of his classmates had left before approaching the front of the class. His backpack was slung over a single shoulder and his sneakers were tied correctly for the first time in his life, just in case he had to make a quick escape.

Professor Giles was busy erasing the chalkboard, not unaware of Jessie approaching behind him. He finished off by dusting his hands on a cloth rag before motioning Jessie to follow him to his desk.

"So Mr. McNally, how can I help you?" he said, collapsing into his chair. He brushed his hair and sat straighter, focusing his attention towards his student.

"I was wondering sir, if you got that email I sent you?" Jessie was doing the foot gazing thing that all students seem to pick up.

Professor Giles smiled, "Ah yes, you wanted me to read some fanfiction you wrote. I am curious why you sent it to me and not Dr. Wyndam-Price your creative writing professor?"

"No offense to Dr. Wyndam-Price, but I'd much rather have your opinion."

They shared a quiet laugh and Giles quickly checked that Wesley wasn't anywhere in sight. The man had the annoying habit of popping up wherever and whenever he wasn't wanted.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. McNally, I did have a chance to read your work. I found it rather interesting." Giles pulled a printed copy of Jessie's email from his leather attaché case. "I was surprised about the show you chose to write on, it is rather old and I didn't think it was that popular among students your age."

"It isn't" Jessie said.

"Ah, I see," Professor Giles said. "I actually use to be a fan, back in the day. I like most of Joss Whedon's work. Except Dollhouse of course, that was garbage."

He smiled genially, as if telling Jessie to relax his shoulders and breathe. Jessie was mostly unreceptive to his suggestion.

"You don't look down on fanfiction, sir?"

Giles frowned, "I wouldn't say look down. When it comes to fanfiction, Sturgeon's law is in full effect, I'd say over 90% of the stuff out there is pure garbage. But fanfiction itself isn't to blame."

"I think I get what you're saying," Jessie said.

"It takes a good writer to take pre-established characters and have them behave and act in a canon way to presumably non-canon events. Of course you could always toss that out the window and have them be thinly veiled author avatars that fuck whichever pop culture icon you have a hard on for."

Jessie pushed himself back in his chair at the heat in his Professor's words. Giles had clenched his hands into a fist and for the first time Jessie realized how frightening the normally unassuming literature professor could be. The room was painfully quiet.

"Err, I take it you have personal experience."

Giles coughed awkwardly, "Sorry about that, yeah. I used to contribute to a Doctor Who anthology back when I was in university. There was this one fellow who always wrote the most vapid drivel, but for some reason his submissions always seemed to be the most popular."

"T&A," Jessie said, "It always works."

Giles smiled. "In any case, I had a few comments and questions for you."

"Sure," Jessie said "That'd be great."

"First of all," Giles said, "Just a couple of corrections. I had to Google most of this but, in your first chapter, which shares a timeline with the original first episode; you have Snyder as the principal of Sunnydale High. Unfortunately, Snyder didn't become Principal until after Flutie died in episode six."

Jessie blinked, "oh."

"There's a few other minor issues of that nature, I'm sure that it's merely a matter to be corrected with more proofreading. Style issues too, of course, a little too reliant on visual description, not enough use of the other senses, that sort of thing." Giles waved his hand, "I do have a more important question though: why focus on Xander? I realize he was always a major character, but he seems like a rather boring character to follow. I must admit I never cared for him while watching the show."

Jessie paused, letting his eyes search the classroom as if the answer would be written on the recently cleaned chalkboards. "Empathy, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, Xander was always the normal one right?" Jessie said. "Buffy was the Slayer and Willow eventually became a witch, but other than the whole eye-patch thing Xander stayed human. I kinda figured he'd be the easiest to relate to.

"He's the everyman." Jessie recalled the article he'd read on TvTropes. "I think you mentioned this in class once, but because he's the closest to the audience, that allows us to empathise with him more than we would someone with superpowers."

Giles nodded, "I suppose that proves you have been paying attention during class."

He flipped through the pages of Jessie's story, "Then why did you give him superpowers in the fifth chapter?"

Jessie shrugged, "No one wants to be normal, that's so boring."


	3. Chapt3r

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own the characters represented in this work, those are owned by their creators, publishers, or distributors. No profit will be made.

Things are explained in increasingly unsubtle monologues. This is good.

* * *

><p>Chapt3r<p>

Using a puppet was like wearing dish washing gloves, you could make the same basic movements but everything was a little clumsier and everything felt muffled. And water always got inside and felt super weird, which when Willow thought about it some more, was something that didn't really happen with puppets.

Willow was expecting the world to feel different without the interference of a puppet. She wasn't prepared for the surge of warmth that filled her. This one felt like it could carry her off her feet. Beside her, she could hear Buffy gasp in surprise. Despite expecting it herself, the bottomless floor caused her no small amount of shock. Willow placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, more to steady herself than anything else. They'd known each other for so long, that one touch told Buffy everything she needed to know. Both felt themselves calm down.

"So you're back" Gatekeeper said, leaning casually against the iron gate. "And you've brought a friend. Hi Buff."

"You don't get to call me that." Buffy said. She spread her feet apart, trying to get her balance. There was no time to admire the night sky around her, Gatekeeper deserved her attention. She was standing on nothing, or what felt like nothing. Every step she took made a tiny voice in her head scream she was going to plummet into the abyss. Very carefully, she ignored it.

"Fair enough. Hey Wills, when you left, your arm vanished with you. Now I'm all itchy." He shrugged his shoulders, hefting his axe aloft. He turned to Buffy so slowly it was a masterclass in physical wit, "Scratch it for me?"

Buffy grinned, "You're on Donkey Kong."

Gatekeeper exploded forward, low to the ground, axe trailing behind him. He twisted at the last moment, jackknifing and throwing the axe into an upward swing that would have split Buffy in two had she been anywhere near.

She was slow or what felt slow to her. Without anything visual to stand on, she couldn't time his movements the way she wanted. She was clumsy like a newborn, throwing herself wildly out of the way of Gatekeepers mad swings.

But like any newborn she found her footing quickly. Buffy wasn't a fighter who used her brain, not in the analytical sense at least, but few had the natural combat instinct that she'd honed with years of fighting. Few slayers were capable of fully harmonizing with their slayer memories, to Buffy that was her existence.

Gatekeeper swung at her neck, aiming to behead her. It was a good attack, one he disguised in-between feints, and had he attempted it ten seconds earlier it probably would have worked. But ten seconds was all Buffy needed to adjust.

Before he had even moved the axe toward her she was moving, sliding towards him. Moving away from the axe was too risky, Buffy wasn't sure of his technique or his strength and she was still off balance from what felt like being squeezed through a garden hose. So she intercepted his arm, grabbed him by the lapels and slammed a fist into his chin with enough force to knock out a gorilla.

He reeled, but stayed upright. So she did it again.

And again. And again and-

"Enough of this shit." Gatekeeper muttered through broken cartilage and a river of blood.

He jackknifed at the waist and intercepted Buffy's fist with his forehead. It sounded like a bushel of twigs being snapped all at once.

"Damn it." Buffy said, "If I was a normal human that would have broken my hand."

"If I was a normal human, that punch would've put a hole through my head."

Buffy shrugged, "Then I guess neither of us have anything to complain about."

"I'm going to cut your head off."

Willow, was busy behind Buffy to get a better angle, all she needed was one clear shot and Gatekeeper would be neutralized.

"No," a voice said, before Gatekeeper could make good on his promise. "You won't. Get on your knees, hands above your head Gatekeeper."

Xander, dressed in army fatigues and brandishing an assault rifle, stepped forward. He tossed a pair of plasti-cuffs to Buffy, "I'll cover you."

"Traitorous asshole." Gatekeeper slowly followed the instructions. He did not look pleased. That was a clever use of understatement.

Once Gatekeeper was on his knees, Buffy kicked him between his shoulders and quickly closed the plasti-cuffs around his wrists behind his back. Then she pulled him into a choke and patiently waited until he stopped struggling.

"Thanks for the assist." She said, noticing for the first time that the Xander that had helped her had two eyes.

"Are you Soldier?" Willow blurted.

Soldier blinked, "I guess I should have expected you'd figure that out quick. You're the smart one."

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled his jacket tighter around him as if he were staving off the cold, "Come on, if you want to save Xander I'll need to give you the tour."

Willow and Buffy followed. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah," Solider said, "We'll get there later."

He kicked the gate open and as they walked through, the world around them shifted until it resembled a far too familiar setting. Towering bookcases and a pair of staircases leading to a distinctive half level greeted them through the now improbably small entrance. Soldier closed the small wooden door behind them.

"Is this the Sunnydale Library?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah," Soldier said, "This is where the Halloween costumes live."

Before they could ask what that meant, they caught a look at the room and froze.

The room resembled the Sunnydale Library in only the most superficial way. The books looked right and the room was close to what they remembered. But it must have been 5 times the size of the real library, it smelled a lot worse than they remembered too.

But what was far more attention grabbing was the Xanders that filled the room, all of them of varying age and dress. Some looked like grizzled and hardened warriors, while others scrunched nervously as if to avoid attention. They sat at the many tables or leaned against book shelves, or just lounged wherever there was room.

"Halloween costumes?" Buffy asked, "I thought you were Xander's Halloween costume? I was some French lady and Willow was a slutty ghost"

"Funny how normal that is these days." Willow muttered not sounding amused in the slightest.

"Things have gone a little wrong." Solider said, "These are possible costumes Xander could have worn. They're like alternate costumes."

He led them to the center of the room.

"Wait, is that Master Chief?" Willow said pointing at a figure dressed in MJOLNIR armor paging through a large tome. "How is that possible?"

"I don't get it" Buffy said, "Master who?"

"Master Chief," Soldier said, "star of the video game franchise Halo. He's one of Xander's many possible Halloween costumes from an alternate dimension."

"That doesn't make any sense" Willow frowned, "Halo wasn't released until 2001."

"That's correct," Soldier said, "and it was only announced to the public in 1999 as an Real Time Strategy game that didn't involve Master Chief in any way. He wouldn't be dreamed up until at least a year later."

"Halloween was 1997, how the hell did Xander dress as a character that wouldn't exist for four years?"

Another voice interjected before Soldier could respond, "Willow, Buffy, is that you?"

Another Xander, high school age, with two eyes filled with innocence ran up to them, "Thank god you're here. These people all say they're me, it's crazy." He paused, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you guys are looking really old."

"Xander?" Willow and Buffy said.

"No." Soldier growled. He grabbed the Xander by the back of his shirt and hauled him back to his seat. "Sit down and shut up kid."

"What the hell are you doing?" Buffy said. Pushing through a sea of Xanders to get to Soldier.

"That's not your Xander, he's just another Halloween costume." Soldier said, grabbing Buffy before she reached the other Xander. Buffy could have torn his arms off. She didn't.

"Wait." Buffy said, "That makes no sense, who did he dress up as?"

"Xander Harris." Soldier said.

"No, who did he dress up as?"

"Xander Harris."

"This isn't the time for an Abbott and Costello routine!"

"Xander Harris dressed as Xander Harris." Soldier growled, and Buffy was beginning to suspect that was the only way he was capable of speaking.

"How is that possible?" Willow was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the gazes of the collected Xanders. The way they looked as her was far too intimate for her liking. It left unwanted questions tumbling through her head.

"Have you ever heard of the Celebrity Paradox?" At their blank looks Soldier rolled his eyes. "You know what Star Trek: Voyager is, right?"

They nodded.

"In 1995, Jeri Ryan was cast as the character Seven of Nine in Star Trek: Voyager. At the time, she was married to politician Jack Ryan, but because she needed to be in L.A for Star Trek and he needed to be in Chicago for his political career, they divorced in 1999. The divorce wasn't particularly clean and hardly amiable. When the divorce documents were released, Jack Ryan was forced to withdraw from the U.S. Senate election in Illinois in 2004, thereby allowing his opposition to win in a landslide victory against his replacement. Meaning Barak Obama, now U.S. Senator of Illinois, had a platform to launch his presidential campaign in 2008."

He took a deep breath. "So tell me, in the Universe of Star Trek: Voyager, did any of that happen. Does Jeri Ryan even exist? Was Obama elected president in 2008?"

"I think you lost me somewhere around Seven of Nine." Buffy said.

"That's insane," Willow said, "It still makes no sense."

"An easy answer," Soldier said, ignoring their responses, "is that it doesn't matter. Maybe Jeri Ryan exists, but she worked on a different show, Star Trek never existed. An easier answer is to just ignore it."

Buffy frowned, "I hate to play up the dumb blonde thing but I'm still lost."

Soldier sighed, "I'm sorry, I'm not explaining it very well." He paused a minute to think. "Think of this like fiction, but constantly written and rewritten over and over and over again. New ideas are introduced, personalities are changed. Problem is they don't, not really. Aspects of every re-write still linger and it seems to have overloaded Xander's mind. That's why Xander's trapped and that's why all these," he gestured to the other Xanders that filled the room, "exist. Because things got too twisted and the original Xander could barely find a place to exist."

"Then who are you?" Willow asked, "Why can you stand apart from those other Xanders? What makes you different?"

"Because I'm the original." Xander said, "I am the origin of Xander's fragmentation."

"Wasn't Hyena first?" Buffy interjected, "I won't forget that anytime soon."

"Yes," Soldier said, "But Hyena was a rigid existence. Halloween was malleable, flexible with far greater entropy. Let me put it simpler: whatever cosmic power started the rift latched onto my creation as a vector for altering Xander to their liking. All these Xanders here in the library are Yet Another Halloween Fractal, a new addition to Xander using costumes as an excuse."

"That's not simple at all."

"Think of me as the original to all these fakers." Soldier said gesturing to the other Xanders.

One Xander took exception to his statement. He was dressed in a black tactical outfit, with patches containing ammo and grenades and other dangerous war implements covering his body. He was armed with an assault rifle with all manner of accessories and attachments as well as an obscene number of handguns and knives.

_"__What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the __USA__ so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo."_

Buffy blinked.

Willow snorted.

Soldier rolled his eyes.

"Who the hell is that?" Willow asked.

"That's what happens when someone plays a little too much Call of Duty." Soldier said, "just ignore him. Everyone one else does."

"No way," Buffy said, "That's the most amazing thing I've ever seen or heard. I'm going to treasure this memory for the rest of my life."

"I'd really rather you didn't," Soldier growled_._ "Let's move on from Halloween, I have another section you should see."

He pushed passed the still ranting tactical Xander and led Buffy and Willow to the Library's main entrance. He pulled the door open and held it so Buffy and Willow could go first. What should have been fresh air and a field of grass was replaced by the second floor of Sunnydale High School. It was silent though, far too silent for how crowded the halls were.

"We're past Halloween now." He started pointing to random Xanders scattered haphazardly in the halls or classrooms. "There's 'Cordelia's best friend Xander' and there's 'never met Willow Xander'. He looks pretty sad."

Xanders skulked and stared at them as they crossed. Some whispered to each other, eyes never leaving Buffy or Willow. Looks of yearning, unrestrained lust flew across the hall like poorly timed arrows from an amateur archer. Willow captured Buffy's hand in her own, if only to stop the shaking, "This is wrong. This is very, very wrong."

One of the Xanders started to walk towards them. Soldier immediately unslung his rifle and shouldered it. "Back off." He growled, "Get back or I'll shoot."

The Xander that approached them growled but stood back, snarling as they passed.

"What the hell is this?" Willow whispered.

"You need to understand what's going happening to Xander." Soldier said. "If you want to save him, you have to understand what these existences are. The ones in this hallway, for example, are possible Xanders in Sunnydale excluding Halloween. Essentially, up until the collapse of Sunnydale, these are possible Xanders that could have arose."

"Ok, that's it," Willow said, "I've had it with your bullshit. You haven't explained anything to us. What are we supposed to understand?"

Soldier stopped walking.

"All these variations of Xander are simply aspects, like shadows on pavement." Soldier said, "But as a result, their existence led to the creation of a single being." He laughed unhappily, "I guess you could call it him a Super Xander."

"Who is he?" Buffy said.

Soldier said nothing. He started walking again.

"What are you afraid of?" Willow said, "What aren't you telling us?"

Soldier took a step back under her assault. It was a step he regretted immediately. It gave Willow the momentum to push forward. He made eye contact instinctively.

"ALEX HARRIS." Soldier spat, "she calls himself ALEX HARRIS."

The Xanders in the hallway flinched at the name.

"Who is ALEX HARRIS?" Buffy said.

"That," ALEX HARRIS replied predictably, "would be me."

* * *

><p>This would ideally be a place to end the chapter, as it's a relatively interesting cliffhanger, but instead we'll delve into who exactly ALEX HARRIS is.<p>

That's ALEX HARRIS, not Alex Harris, or Alex. Only ALEX HARRIS is capable of translating the majesty of ALEX HARRIS.

ALEX HARRIS is referred to by interchangeable he's and she's because he belongs to all sexes. 'It' is a dehumanizing term, and labels like trans don't encompass the true liminal nature of her existance. He rejected the name Xander because of what it represents, she's an adult, a childish nickname is meaningless to him. Thus Alex.

More importantly ALEX HARRIS was capable of heterosexual and homosexual relationships with every character throughout fiction.

He's beautiful and handsome, sexy and chaste, promiscuous and pure. ALEX HARRIS is like a demented fractal of description porn; an amalgamated self-inserted caricature of self-reflexive perfection and vanity. A fountain and inspiration for a deluge of bungled grammatical wordiness that leaves punctuation and sentence structure scrambling for a reprieve.

ALEX HARRIS is a sufferer of angst and all of the latest most relevant social and physical issues. Like bipolarism, insomnia, depression, ONLY THE COOL ONES. She is okay with this, except for when he isn't. He could be the subject of an Oscar winning biopic. It would also be a musical due to ALEX HARRIS's famed angelic voice.

A MaryGary Sue capable of wielding all the powers combined.

* * *

><p>"Typical," Buffy said, "It's like I have the superpower to summon great evil."<p>

ALEX HARRIS, the handsome motherfucker, laughed uproariously. "Truly, you are so funny Buffy, my greatest friend of friends. Your sense of humor is so hip and 'with it'."

ALEX HARRIS uses the expression 'with it' without a trace of irony. This is not ironic.

"Now," ALEX HARRIS said, "queue the fight seen."

* * *

><p>Author's Note INSANITY EDITION:<p>

I thought I'd take the time to explain what exactly I'm attempting to do with this chapter and what precisely this story is about. Especially considering the non-sequitur that was the last author's note.

Essentially this story is about the relationship between Xander the TV show character and Xander the fanfiction subject. I love what people have done and continue to do with his character on this site, but I feel it a little odd that the first thing a lot of fics do is power him up when that was never what defined his character. Don't take this as criticism though, there's plenty of fanfiction that powers up Xander in an interesting and believable way, without seeming unnecessary.

I see this type of power up often when a character is derided for being a 'weak' character because they're not physically strong or they lose a fight. But emotional or mental strength can also lead to a 'strong' character. Xander acts as the heart of the group and his role as the ordinary one is important.

In an organization that includes all sorts of mystic types and super powered teenage girl, Xander can be the one ground the team. He keeps the team relatable. That's not to say he can't be a badass, but he's often a badass in a different way than Buffy or Willow.

Take this fanfiction as my own way of examining my feelings about fanfiction.

In any case, if you've read this far you have my sincerest thanks for being willing to read such a bizarre unconventional work.

Welcome to the New Year.


End file.
